Carnal Desires
by ravenshone
Summary: Vilkas never could have imagined what the future would hold when a stranger came to Jorrvaskr. (Vilkas x F!Dragonborn; Vilkas perspective; Follows Companions questline, starting with "Take Up Arms")
1. Chapter 1 - Take Up Arms

**This story is from Vilkas' perspective and follows the Companions questline. I tried to keep it as accurate as possible as far as dialogue and story progression, but some small changes and additions need to be made at times to make the transition from RPG to fantasy story. This story will follow the Companions questline as closely as possible, each chapter being a different quest, but time will tell if that's where the story will stop. In other words, we may run out of questline, but may not run out of story.**

**In case it's not obvious from the description, this story is a Vilkas x female Dragonborn adventure romance. Despite the title, I have no current plans to turn this into a smut fic. I don't feel my skills are up to par.**

**This is the first fanfiction I've written in quite a long time. Please leave me with as much feedback and constructive criticism as you can! I'd like to start writing again, but am still unsure where my quality stands.**

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When Vilkas saw her for the first time, he wasn't very impressed. He had been sitting in Kodlak's outer quarters, discussing their...problem at the table in the corner. He'd only agreed to discuss it with Kodlak because the older man had assured Vilkas of their privacy, to which he then proceeded to have their conversation with the door wide open, in full ear shot of anyone walking past. In hindsight, probably not the best idea. Regardless, he had been thoroughly distracted by the issue at hand.

"But I still hear the call of the blood," Vilkas admitted shamefully, resisting the urge to bow his head.

"We all do," Kodlak nodded, eyes understanding. "It is our burden to bear. But we can overcome"

Vilkas steadied himself with a deep breath, "You have my brother and I, obviously. But I don't know if the rest will go along quite so easily."

In fact, Vilkas had known they wouldn't. As if the whispered conversations between Aela and Skjor that his heightened hearing had no problem eavesdropping in on weren't clue enough, their long disappearances followed by reports of mass slaughter by some wild beasts confirmed all suspicions. Farkas, who loved a good fight more than almost anyone Vilkas knew, even admitted that their curse was beginning to have far more consequences than profits. Well, that was after long conversations between brothers over several tankards of mead had helped Farkas's position solidify.

Kodlak's voice hardened, "Leave that to me."

A steady stomping grew louder as someone in heavy armor ran down the hall toward Kodlak's quarters. Expecting Farkas or Skjor, Vilkas looked toward the open doors, only to be surprised by the face of a complete stranger, a young Nord woman. Her breathing was slightly labored as she came to a stop in front of them, a light sheen of sweat on her forehead, clearly not yet used to the exertion. Her build was slight, almost to the point of being overtaken by the armor she was wearing, like a child in their parent's wardrobe. Her thick brown hair was cut to just below her chin, and barely visible beneath her iron helmet, horned on the sides. Her innocent facial features were undercut by recently acquired, not quite yet healed mild scarring on her face, making him wonder what she could have possibly been through to give her those wounds. She didn't carry herself like a sellsword, she wasn't wearing legion armor, and didn't look like a Forsworn or bandit.

Kodlak sat back in his chair, to all the world relaxed, "A stranger comes to our hall."

Her eyes, a stunning blue, met Kodlak's as she announced in a voice a pitch or two deeper than Aela's and hoarse, like she'd been recently yelling, "I am Eliana Fire-Sword. I would like to join the Companions."

Kodlak's lips turned up in the barest hint of a smile causing more wrinkles to appear on his elder face, "Would you now? Here, let me have a look at you. Hmm. Yes, perhaps. A certain strength of spirit."

_Strength of spirit? _What in Oblivion was the old man on about? When had Jorrvaskr become a temple, accepting any wayward soul that ventured in.

"Master," Vilkas started quietly. "You're not truly considering accepting her."

Kodlak turned around, eyes burning softly at the unspoken reprimand in Vilkas's tone, "I am nobody's master, Vilkas. And last I checked, we had some empty beds in Jorrvaskr for those with a fire burning in their hearts."

He felt his cheeks redden slightly from overstepping his bounds and he inclined his head with respect. However, with a stranger watching, he couldn't keep himself from saying, "Apologies, but perhaps this isn't the time. I've never even heard of this outsider."

Kodlak turned back to the young woman, who was watching their exchange curiously, looking back and forth between them slowly, "Sometimes the famous come to us. Sometimes men and women come to us to seek their fame. It makes no difference. What matters is their heart."

Vilkas nearly snorted and replied sardonically, his arms crossed, "And their arm."

"Of course. How are you in battle, girl?" Kodlak asked, his arms crossed like Vilkas' own.

Her head cocked slightly to the side as she paused a moment, eyes going a bit out of focus, likely deciding how she'd like to reply. In the silence, sounds of raccous conversation could be hear from upstairs. After several seconds, she settled on, "I can handle myself."

Kodlak hid his disappointment in her answer well, but not well enough to keep Vilkas, who had known him for longer than most others, from noticing, "That may be so. This is Vilkas. He will test your arm."

His pulse jumped when he heard his own name. What in Shor's name was Kodlak doing? He didn't want to do this! This job would be better suited to Aela or Skjor, even Farkas. One of the other initiates could test her arm just as easily, and even give her a taste of what was to come.

"Vilkas," Kodlak brought him back from his thoughts. "Take her out to the yard and see what she can do."

"Aye," he agreed as he stood, resigned. He began to walk out of the quarters, boots thumping softly on the ornate rug, and noticed she hadn't yet moved. "Not here. Out in the yard. Come on."

That seemed to spark some movement. He moved at a deliberately slow pace to see what she would do. Would she charge ahead of him assuming she knew where they were going, or would she follow along like a good little new blood? Apparently, the latter, as he climbed the stairs to the main hall. He couldn't say for sure which outcome would have annoyed him more.

He passed several Companions on the way up. Athis and Njada were sporting some fresh wounds, though Athis had clearly gotten the worst of it. It was a good thing Athis' skin tone made bruises difficult to make out, considering how often Njada gave him new ones. Part of him wanted to tell Athis to give it up, if only for his own sake, but that persistence in the face of defeat is what made him a Companion.

The main hall smelled of old mead, sweat, and fresh blood, likely from the recent brawl. He headed out the back doors into the sparing yard, past the benches scattered with forgotten bowls of food. The day was bright and the sky clear, though distant rumbles of thunder off the mountains forecast a coming storm.

With a silent sigh, Vilkas turned to face the young woman, and wasn't entirely able to keep the disdain from his voice, "The old man said to have a look at you, so let's do this. Just have a few swings at me so I can see your form. Don't worry. I can take it."

He pulled out his old banded iron shield, a shield that had saved his life more times than he would care to admit, and drew an sword with it. He preferred his greatsword, but he was ordered to test her arm, which would be easier to do against a hard surface like the shield. Bracing his feet, he took his stance and prepared for a fight.

She drew her steel sword, took a deep breath before winding up and slammed down onto his shield with more force than would be necessary for a mere test, staggering him a bit. She gave him a moment to stand back up and steady himself before hitting him twice more, this time at a more normal strength. Her arm was adequate, and certainly showed room for improvement, but not so poor he would refuse admittance. He nodded as he sheathed his sword and shield, "Not bad. Next time won't be so easy."

She stood silently, staring at him. He felt something like strong tug in his stomach, making his words sharper than he intended, "You might just make it. But for now, you're still a whelp to us, new blood. So you do what we tell you."

She still stared at him as if expecting something more, not saying anything, weapon still drawn. Getting irritated, he drew his sword again and handed it to her. If she wanted orders, fine. "Here's my sword. Go take it up to Eorlund to have it sharpened. And be careful, it's probably worth more than you are."

Finally, she took off without a word, jogging up the hill toward the Skyforge, armor clanging loudly. He shook his head as he looked away and started in toward the main hall again. He hadn't really needed his blade sharpened and felt slightly naked without its weight on his body. Something about her silence had unsettled him into giving her the unnecessary task.

He sat down at the table, a plate of grilled leeks and salmon steak in front of him. A fork in hand, he raised it above the food, but never stabbed it. A body sat heavily next to him, permeated with a permanent hint of mead. Torvar.

"How'd it go with the girl?" Torvar asked, picking a leek off Vilkas's plate with his fingers.

Vilkas glared at the other man, "She did fine. She's running an errand to Eorlund."

Torvar nodded, "She looked tough. Not much, but enough."

Rather than respond, Vilkas began eating his fish. It was cold, but still qualified as edible. He'd had much worse, including the conversation at hand.

"Think Ria's excited. She won't stop chattering about not being the newest anymore, but I'm sure you'll hear all about that in your training. Njada seems less excited, and Athis is downright angry about it. I think he's just afraid this new blood will kick him as badly as Njada does," Torvar continued.

Vilkas finished his meal in silence, ignoring Torvar as best as he could. His incessant chatter wore Vilkas's already frayed nerves to the bone. It had been so long since he'd unleashed the beast beneath his skin, it was tearing at him to get out. Damned curse. Damn Hircine. He grabbed a bottle of ale on the table, chugging it like a boy to soothe his mood.

"Enough of your drivel, Torvar," Vignar called loudly from across the table. "Leave some of us to dine in peace."

They started in on each other, with Brill occasionally jumping in to help Vignar, though his help wasn't really needed. As Vilkas finished his supper, one of the doors to the yard opened. A strong, chilled breeze came in with it, likely from one of the rainstorms that liked to show seemingly at random. Eliana stepped inside quickly and ran past the table, carrying a shield that he had seen with Aela on occasion, likely running another errand.

Finding that he had seen enough for one day, he stood to retire to his rooms and the bottles of mead near his bed. Maybe he would find his opinion on the Nord improved in the morning.

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**Thank you for reading! If you feel so inclined, please leave feedback and let me know what you think.**

**I do not have a set posting schedule. I don't know when the next chapter will be posted. Thank you for understanding.**


	2. Chapter 2 - Trouble in Skyrim

**Thank you so much for the response to the first chapter! I appreciate all of the reviews, favorites, and follows. I'm hoping for weekly updates to this story going forward, but as I am starting a new job in the real world, it may cause some interruptions to that schedule. Thank you in advance for your understanding.**

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The next morning, Vilkas woke to the familiar headache of too much drink. Wincing slightly, he eased his way out of bed, untangling himself from the furs, all from animals he had killed himself. He eased himself slowly into his wolf armor, telling himself his slightly sore muscles were also left over from the drink the night before and not at all from the thrashing the new whelp had given him the day before. He really needed to start training again.

Shaking thoughts of her from his head, he decided a bowl of hot soup may do him some good, and it had been a while since he'd been down to The Bannered Mare for gossip. Jorrvaskr's particular flavor grew sour after a while and the walls began to close in on him. Cabin fever, a traveler had once called it.

Running a hand through his hair, he stalked down the halls and passed sweet Tilma on the way, who was preoccupied replacing out rotten produce with new, likely from Carlotta's stall. Tilma always managed to sweet talk the best from her.

No matter how many Companions came to their hall, the sounds from the tables were always the same, a familiar cacophony of veiled threats over the last crème treat, embellished tales of death, and the sounds of family. The only family him and Farkas had ever known. Would ever know.

As he topped the stairs, he spotted his brother standing near the doors of the hall, clearly waiting for something. Since his brother was scarcely awake before the sun reached peak, he wondered at the reason. Grabbing a green apple from a nearby end table, he tossed it up and down carelessly as he walked toward his twin, "Farkas."

Farkas turned to face him, "Yeah?"

Vilkas sat on one of the benches, sprawling out comfortably, "Waiting for something?"

Farkas nodded briskly, "Kodlak had me offer the new girl a contract to test her skills."

"He did?" Vilkas raised a brow. "Where did he send her?"

"The only contract I had ready was the Shimmermist Cave problem. Some locals were reported to be going missing. Kodlak had wanted me to sort it out, but told me yesterday to offer it to her instead," Farkas shrugged.

"Shimmermist? That's quite the problem to test a whelp with," he remarked casually. Once again, he found himself internally wondering what Kodlak could possibly be thinking. He was going to get her killed. Not that he cared. But then Farkas would just have to fix the problem anyway.

Aela came to join them, leaning on the wooden post on the stairs, "She has a fire, that one. She'll do just fine."

"You sound quite confident about someone you've only just met," Vilkas pointed out.

Aela smirked, her war paint cracking around her eyes, "You're just worried she's going to show you up. I would be too, if I'd been beaten like that in the yard."

Vilkas scoffed, "Beaten? She hit me three times, Aela, and barely that. It would figure you would have trouble with the definition. How long has it been since you've beaten anyone?"

"Don't try to deflect now. Where were you yesterday when Farkas, Ria, and I were taking down the giant attacking the Pelagia farm? Discussing our futures with Kodlak, as if you have any right?" Aela's voice was taking on a soft growl, her eyes turning slightly yellow as she allowed the beast to show. A display that started to trigger Vilkas' own, which she likely knew, the sneaky bitch. Reminding him subtly of the beast still beneath his skin. Damn her to Oblivion.

"Mind your business, Aela. Who I talk to and what I talk to them about is of no concern to you."

She snorted and turned to walk away, saying softly, "It better not be."

He shook his head, hoping Aela wouldn't make his headache worse. Farkas looked at him curiously, "Are you feeling-"

"I'm fine," Vilkas snapped. "Just too much to drink last night. I'm headed to the Bannered Mare."

Farkas nodded, dismissing the issue, but Vilkas knew it wasn't over. His brother knew more than he let on despite his mind being less...well read than the others, He was especially attuned to Vilkas, much to his ire. He stood, suppressing a groan as his joints cracked, and opened the doors to Whiterun. The burnt Gildergreen stood just below the steps, still trying to keep watch over the lower half of the city despite its damaged condition. He tossed the idea of offering his help to the priestess in order to fix the tree, if even such a thing were possible, but finally shrugged it off as he passed it. There couldn't be enough action involved to suit the Companions anyway, and they certainly weren't healers.

As he passed through the small market in the business district, the other townsfolk gave him a wide berth. He knew it was supposed to be a show of respect, and a bit of fear, but he couldn't help feeling as if he were an outsider to the life of Whiterun, despite living in the city for most of his life. He ignored them all as he opened the left door of the inn and walked inside.

The lights were much dimmer inside, though his eyes adjusted quickly. The inn smelled of food, drink, and too many bodies, making him regret coming here for a moment when he could have the same things back home. Conversation stuttered for a moment, the bard even pausing his song, before picking up again with more enthusiasm and whispering than before. Sighing silently, he took a seat at the bar, sitting with such force that the plates on the bar rattled.

"What can I get for you?" Hulda asked, coming over immediately, the only one seemingly unaffected by him being in her inn. True to nature, Hulda was a superb innkeeper, making sure all guests, renting rooms or not, were taken care of.

"Got anything fresh? The hotter, the better."

Hulda smiled, "Saadia just finished a pot of horker stew. How's about it and a couple of bottles of mead? We just got a fresh barrel of Honningbrew in."

"Yes to the stew, but if Honningbrew still has that skeever problem Torvar's been spreading about, I'll pass."

She nodded, "Horker stew and two bottles of house made mead, coming right up."

He snorted. Maybe he should see about-nah. A few skeevers wouldn't be worth his time. Besides, Sabjorn could be a right ass and must be worse than normal with rumors of Sabjorn trying to get Commander Caius in for a tasting to dispel the skeever talk.

He picked at his fingernails, feeling the eyes of the other patrons digging into the back of his armor. He had grabbed a spare sword from his quarters before leaving, but missed the familiar weight of his own sword. He would have to remember to pick it up from Eorlund later.

Hulda came back around her side of the bar, placing a steaming bowl of horker stew in front of him with two sweating bottles of chilled mead on either side. He counted and handed over the septims before digging in. After re-counting them and slipping them into her coin purse silently, she continued wiping dishes clean. Around mouthfuls of stew, (who knew those ugly beasts could taste so good?), he asked, "Any news around the city?"

"That visitor, the young Nord who word says has been up in Jorrvaskr, has been making quite the name for herself," Hulda set down the wooden plate she'd been drying and nodded toward the bard, her voice turning to a whisper. "Mikael's been pestering Carlotta almost non-stop for a fortnight. That girl tried reasoning with him. When that didn't work, she knocked the sense right into him. Serves him, I say. I let him play day and night, but if he started driving patrons away, he'd have to go."

Vilkas set his spoon down and grabbed one of the drinks, "Honorable as it is, that doesn't sound like enough to make a name."

"You know as well as anyone in this town how word gets around," Hulda continued slyly. "But no, that's not all. She also took on Uthgerd, after she had a few too many and got too brash for her boots. That pretty young scrap knocked her down a peg, and then had the guts to ask Uthgerd to follow her on her travels. Of course Uthgerd said yes."

Vilkas shook his head, "Bringing up Uthgerd doesn't exactly give the best impression, Hulda."

"Fine," she snapped, set her elbows upon the bar and stared right into his face. "Gerda up at Dragonsreach tells me she was at Helgen when it was attacked by a dragon and took it upon herself to tell the Jarl to send guard to Riverwood and then aided the watchtower in defeating another dragon. Then, some of the guards who stopped in said she absorbed some kind of power from it, like she's a dragonborn. Jarl Balgruuf even made her Thane! And that's after she agreed to help Danica with the Gildergreen, Amren with that sword he and Saffir were yelling about, old Fralia with her troubles, and a bounty the Jarl put out on that bandit camp to the north. It's thought that's where she ran off to with Uthgerd, or even one of the other places. She even talked to Brenuin and little Lucia before she left, like they mattered, giving them coins when everyone else walked past."

Hulda gave her words some time to settle in, before removing Vilkas' empty bowl from beneath his shock-still face.

"That is why she's making a name for herself, Vilkas. Not because she's out for glory and wealth under a banner of honor. Whether or not she's looking for those, she's earning them by doing things that matter to the people around here. Even if she never makes it as a Companion, never completes whatever little quest you warriors have sent her on to prove herself, she'll always be respected in Whiterun. Even long after she's left."

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**Thank you for reading! If you have the time or inclination, please review before clicking away and be sure to check back in about a week for the next chapter!**


	3. Chapter 3 - Proving Honor

**I hope everyone enjoyed the last chapter. I know this story is a bit shorter than one would expect given the length of the quests, but this is from Vilkas' perspective. He doesn't experience what the Dragonborn does, so his view of the proceedings tend to be more restricted. The chapters will get longer as his part in the coming quests is expanded.**

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As the days turned into weeks, and weeks to months, and their newest initiate still hadn't returned from her first assignment, Vilkas was sore to admit that he was beginning to worry. He had begun keeping an ear to the door of Jorrvaskr for any news, but was always both relieved and frustrated when he received word of her travels. She had come back to Whiterun many times since trying out for the Companions, but hadn't yet returned to Jorrvaskr. Given the tales of her exploits, surely Shimmermist Cave was a blip on her radar and an easy feat to accomplish. Why wasn't she returning? Didn't she care at all about Farkas, who was tied to wait in the main hall for her to return with a positive result?

_Since when do you give a troll's hide about Farkas waiting for her? He could leave if he wanted to and someone else could intercept the message __of her completion__._

He shut out the voice at the back of his mind, which sounded suspiciously like logic. It was easier to pass off his actions as something else. Why he was going down to the Bannered Mare more often than ever, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, to see if she was still the tiny girl who had surprised him in the training yard?

He could only imagine the adventures she was going on from the flapping gums around the city. Uthgerd had returned after only a couple of weeks out in the wilds with her, but not without donning new armor and carrying new weapons. Weapons and armor far beyond the pay grade of a mostly drunk mercenary. Their newest initiate wasn't just making a full life for herself, but for everyone who touched her.

With surprising ease, she had found that sword for Amren in the same bandit camp the Jarl had been offering a bounty for, not that Proventus was ever running short on those in recent years. The war seemed to have stirred up all the unseemly creatures who typically kept to the shadows. The Gildergreen was blooming beautifully, towering in splendor over Whiterun. The temple was seeing a resurgence of visitors.

However, there was also a darker sort of talk. Not only her connection to the growing dragon menace, but whispers about Riften's thieves guild re-gaining their foothold in Whiterun, with her at the helm. It's not an honorable path, and he wasn't confident that someone like that should be representing the Companions.

According to Lydia, her own gods damned housecarl, the Nord had never asked her to accompany her on her adventures. The only time she visited Breezehome was to visit with Lucia, whom she had opened her doors for allowing her to use her home. She never slept there herself. Word had it that she had many homes, scattered all around Skyrim, and had taken in wayward children at each.

What need could someone as successful as that have for a warrior guild like the Companions?

_W__hy __would you care? You met her one time. As long as she isn't interfering in Companion business, she won't be your problem._

He was lounging on a pile of furs on his bed, tossing snowberries into a silver bowl across the room, lost to his thoughts, when Aela barged in, "I would have thought you would have been upstairs, convincing Skjor to send you instead of your brother."

Vilkas sat up slowly, tossing a berry into his mouth instead of the bowl, "What are you on about now?"

"Eliana. She returned."

He did his best to hide his reaction, merely raising a brow, "And?"

Aela rolled her eyes. She really did have a great exasperated face, "And Skjor assigned her Farkas as a Shield-Brother."

Confused, he stood, walking to a table for a rag to polish his greatsword with, "Why would she need a Shield-Brother?"

"I swear, Vilkas, sometimes you're more dense than Farkas," she teased, plucking a sweet roll off of his bookshelf and slowly tearing it to pieces. "You know Kodlak likes the word he's been hearing about Eli from around Skyrim. Well, not all of it, but he thinks she's more than proven herself already."

"Yes, yes, I know this already. I attend the same Circle meetings you do. What I don't understand is what one has to do with the other," he replied, slowly running the rag over the shining steel, blade braced against his crossed leg.

"Kodlak and Skjor decided that the fragment of Wuuthrad in Dustman's Cairn would be the perfect last task for her, though she doesn't really need one, honestly," her words trailed off as Vilkas jumped to his feet, sword clanging nosily to the ground.

"It can't be. That was supposed to be our mission, Aela!" Vilkas practically roared. "I don't care what she's done around Skyrim. We haven't seen the proof ourselves, and sending those two off on their own with no one else is a death sentence! You know what that damned ruin is filled with!"

She grinned widely showing too many teeth, pastry in her hands forgotten, "Now _that's _the reaction we were lacking above ground. Though it's too little, too late, I'm afraid. They're already well on their way to the ruin."

Vilkas couldn't tell if his face would be red with fury or white with fear, but whatever emotion it was, it struck him silent, filling his chest so full he could scarcely breathe. He wished he could say the fear was entirely for his twin. Aela walked out with a chuckle, having the grace to shut the door on her way out, a knowing glint in her eyes, "I'll give Skjor your opinions on the matter."

He sat back down in the chair, leaving his sword on the ground, further from his mind than the sun from the land. His mind was swimming with all possibilities of what could happen to them in the Cairn. He had no doubt of Farkas's ability to defend himself, had seen it himself, but he hadn't seen Eliana in action. Word of mouth didn't do much to solidify his confidence. He hadn't felt this out of sorts since he was a boy watching the initiated train in the yard, feeling as if he'd never get to their level.

Why was he having those same reactions whenever he thought of her?

Shaking his shock from his bones, he stalked out of his room, down the lower halls up to the main hall. He ignored the calls from various members to join them at the table and looked around until he found the one he was looking for. His protégé, for all intents and purposes, Ria. He sat on the bench next to her, "How goes the training?"

She shook her head, dark hair flying wildly, "I'm still struggling with the footwork of the blade. It seems so bulky, not as smooth as you make it look."

"Give it time and practice, Ria. You know this," he urged softly.

"Of course."

Silence fell between them for a time, awkward because neither of them knew what to say, even though they'd been friends for a good long while. She picked up a potato from a nearby sack to toss back and forth in her hands, discontent to sit still for long, "Was there something you needed?"

"Actually, I have a favor to ask of you," he admitted.

She flinched, surprised, "What could I do for you?"

He paused for another moment, second guessing himself before plunging forward, "Farkas and Eliana were given a mission of the utmost importance. We need to know when they are finished as soon as possible. I would like you to keep an eye on the ruin and when you see the slightest hint of them being finished, run ahead and tell me."

Her brown eyes were wide with excitement, "Alright. Where will I be heading?"

He ran a hand through his hair, buying some time as Torvar passed by on his way to get another drink so he wouldn't overhear, "They are exploring Dustman's Cairn, that ugly ruin to the northeast of Greenspring Hollow. Just find somewhere in the grasses to settle, waiting to see if either or both of them make it out. If you see anything, you run back here immediately and let us know."

Clearly eager to start her new assignment, she jumped up and began walked past him. He grabbed her arm, "Ria."

"Yes?" she looked back at him.

"This mission isn't without its dangers. There have been reports of dragons flying overhead as well as bears, sabre cats, and the occasional giant. Be cautious."

"Don't worry, Vilkas. I've been a Companion for nearly a year now."

He nodded as she left the hall, confident in her abilities. He wondered why he was more worried about a woman he'd only met once before rather than the one he'd been training for a year or his only living family in Tamriel.

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It was past dark the next day when Ria burst through the doors to the hall. Her hair stuck to her face in wild spikes, beads of sweat soaking down her neck into her armor. Vilkas looked up from the book he was reading and waved her over to his bench to the left of the back doors, setting the book on a barrel of apples. Still panting, Ria said hoarsely, "They're coming, both of them. I was hidden quite far away, so I don't think they could see me as I ran ahead. They also seemed to be following the road."

Vilkas nodded, heart thumping wildly, "Thank you, Ria. Go get some rest."

She smiled widely and headed for the stairs. Skjor came to stand just below the back stairs with Aela just below them at the table, "I'll inform Kodlak of their return. It's time to cast judgment on the girl. You should meet Farkas and her outside the hall, bring them to the yard."

"Too good to do it yourself, eh, Skjor?" Vilkas sneered without any real heat.

Skjor snorted, "Nah. I need to talk to Kodlak and Aela is going to spread word to the others to keep out of the yard until the ceremony is over. Besides, you can make sure yourself that the girl didn't get your brother killed since you bothered to send Ria to make sure."

Not bothering to correct him, as it would spark more questions he wasn't confident he had the answers for, Vilkas stood himself and headed out front. Night had fallen in a choking darkness, the rain soaked clouds blocking any moonlight from poking through. Only because of the torches carried by guards and scattered around the base of the tree could he make out the branches lofting overhead, casting sharp shadows over the cobblestones.

The city was quiet, a night requiring stealth. No townspeople were out that late, even Amren's cow not making a sound. There were no distant rumbles off the mountain peaks around Whiterun, a distinct change from the normal. A shivered chased its way up his spine like a mouse on a fence, the eeriness of the night starting to get to him. This was a night for thieves and assassins, not warriors.

He tapped his boot on the path just to give some noise to the silence, but as it echoed around the Wind District, it only made him feel more alone. Alone. A feeling that had only been growing stronger in recent years. A feeling that had nothing to do with the war or the Companions or even his gods damned curse. He was growing tired of the stares without consideration, the berth given more out of suspicion and worry than reverence and esteem, and a life filled with honor from adventures but yet still...hollow. He could feel something missing, as essential as a lung, and as festering as a splinter under a nail.

Before he could get too deep into his psych, something he found fundamentally disturbing to focus on for too long, the metallic stomping of armored feet running on stone jarred him back to Whiterun. Indeed, coming up the stairs from the market leading the charge was Eliana Fire-Sword. Or, he assumed it was Eliana, since Farkas was a few paces behind. He couldn't really tell given that she was hidden beneath a set of steel plate armor, reinforced from the looks of it. It was filthy from the ruin and in desperate need of a cleaning, but she still managed to look commanding.

She began to slow as she reached the steps to Jorrvaskr and he puffed his chest out a bit, trying to look bigger than he felt, "We've been awaiting your return."

"Why were you waiting for me?" she asked quietly.

He ignored her question, "Come. Follow me."

Turning without waiting to see if she did, he turned and ran into the hall, rushing through past the tables and out the back doors into the yard, where he took his place in the Circle. As Eliana followed, Farkas left her side and came to stand to Vilkas' left.

Eliana paused on the edge of their half circle, waiting in silence. Kodlak spread his arms wide and gesturing to the gathered members, "Brothers and sisters of the Circle, today we welcome a new soul into our mortal fold. This woman has endured, has challenged, and has shown her valor. Who will speak for her?"

Farkas looked at her with pride, speaking the ceremonial words Vilkas knew he had memorized in the hope he would one day be able to use, "I stand witness to the courage of the soul before us."

"Would you raise your shield in her defense?"

"I would stand at her back, that the world might never overtake us."

Eliana seemed to grow taller with each word even as uncomfortable as she was, picking at her gauntlets, shuffling her weight from foot to foot. Proud, but humble. A true warrior.

"And would you raise your sword in her honor?"

"It stands ready to meet the blood of her foes."

"And would you raise a mug in her name?"

"I would lead the song of triumph as our mead hall reveled in her stories."

As ceremonious as the words were, almost empty after centuries of use, it was clear from Farkas's inflection that he meant each one. Something must have happened in that ruin, something powerful.

Almost as powerful as the ugly feeling that surged through Vilkas's gut, a jealousy with the fury of a cave troll. He was ready to pound his brother into the ground because of the quest he'd shared with her, a possibility he would have never considered a season ago.

Kodlak continued, voice strong, carrying through the chilled night air, "Then the judgment of this Circle is complete. Her heart beats with fury and courage that have united the Companions since the days of the distant green summers."

As Kodlak talked, the world seemed to tilt for a moment before settling down. He let out a deep breath. He still wasn't confident in the depth of his feelings for the woman, but he wouldn't be able to deny that they existed any longer.

"Let it beat with ours, that the mountains may echo and our enemies may tremble at the call."

His voice joined with Aela's and Skjor's, strong with emotion, "It shall be so."

* * *

Eliana stayed behind after the initiation to speak with Kodlak, so he followed the rest of the Circle into the hall for a drink. Taking a seat at the table, Farkas sat on his left, once more. Vilkas swallowed and asked, "How did it go in there?"

Farkas shrugged, "We made it out alive. Barely."

"Barely?" Vilkas raised a brow. "Surely you jest?"

"Well, I barely made it out alive. She held her own long enough for me to gather enough strength to jump back into the fight after I was down."

Vilkas' heart dropped to his stomach. They'd come that close? "How is that possible?"

"It wasn't the few draugr and Silver Hand bastards we thought. The fragment was in this big chamber, surrounded with draugr that had it in for us. We started out alright but they just kept coming and coming. They got me down a time or two."

"How in Tamriel did you get out?"

"A fair amount of luck and Elie is a natural. More than us. More than even Aela. All those stories that we heard about her, Vilkas. They're all true," Farkas sounded awed, a strange notion for someone such as them, having been raised by great warriors. A loud, slightly drunken laugh from Athis came from near the stairs leading to the lower levels

"They can't all be true," Vilkas disagreed in more of a whisper to himself than actual conversation. "It's just not possible."

Farkas took a long drink of wine before continuing on as if Vilkas had spoken to him directly, "The ones I saw were, Vilk. She's silent as a thief, lethal as an assassin, smart as a mage, and strong as a warrior. I'm just glad she's on our side."

_No kidding._

Vilkas stood from the table, heading toward the backstairs to get some sleep when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning, he saw Eliana standing in front of him, a bit too close than he was comfortable, causing him to blurt out, "I think by now I've killed one of every living thing in Skyrim. May be time for a trip to Morrowind."

_What the- why the hell would you say that?_

Seemingly nonplussed, she said, "I'm looking for work."

_Work? Right. Kodlak told Skjor and I we were to offer her work if she asked._

"We've received a desperate missive," he started, hoping she didn't notice his brief pause. "A citizen of the Reach has been kidnapped. The Companions have been asked for assistance, and we shall answer. Particularly when the pay is as good as this. Your mark is a Breton woman named Voada. She's been kidnapped by the Forsworn and is being held in Blind Cliff Cave. Get moving. I shudder to think what might happen if you're too late."

She nodded, making note in a leather bound journal before running off without so much as a goodbye. He watched until the doors closed behind her.

"How long until you say something?"

Vilkas looked to where Farkas was still seated at the table, "What are you mumbling about?"

Farkas didn't say anything else. Just gave him the same knowing look that Aela had been giving him on and off for weeks. Ignoring all of them, he stalked down to his room and crashed on the bed.

Damn them. Damn them all.

* * *

**Thank you for reading! Again, I am just getting back into writing after several years of nothing. I can use all the help I can get, so if you can, please leave a review letting me know what you think. The coming chapters are going to be where things start to diverge from the Bethesda approved script onto something more befitting of this story.**


	4. Chapter 4 - Rescue Mission

For several days after Eliana had left on her latest quest, Vilkas was up with the sun, beating training dummies in the yard into such pieces Eorlund was struggling to keep up with the damage. On Morndas, the 18th day of Morning Star, Vilkas was once again swinging his sword to the great destruction of the straw-filled, wooden man, avoiding the dreams, nightmares, and fantasies all centered on one young woman. Even while fervently denying having had those thoughts. It was an exhausting cycle.

The air of the morning was flecked with light flakes of snow from a storm that had passed through the night, leaving an icy breath across the land, despite the ground being so warm in these parts the snow that fell rarely stayed for long. The sun was shining brightly, not a cloud to be found, leaving folks able to see clear into the distance. The sounds of the children shrieking while likely playing one of their games floated up from near the stairs to the market, almost indecipherable over the rhythmic clang of metal on wood, creating a blank canvas of sound to bear his thoughts onto.

Admitting it was an impossibility, a vulnerability he couldn't afford, but it was simply more and more challenging to invent excuses as to his odd behavior. Unburdened of responsibility and image, he may have been able to admit the starts of feelings more than...companionship toward her. It always had been. For such a private man, it was unsettling.

All of that secret turmoil ignored their bigger problems. Rationalizing how unnecessary his emotions were did nothing to quiet his thoughts on the matter, having quite the paradoxical effect, bringing her even further to the forefront of his consciousness. The Circle needed him now more than ever. They were all still curses, though some of them remained unwilling to yield to it being such. Aela had even once proposed in whispers to Skjor excitedly about giving the younger woman the blood.

Vilkas had snarled so loudly in response from across the hall, he feared the villagers had heard him as far as Kynesgrove. Aela, as per usual, had been the only one present seemingly unaffected by his display, even finding it amusing. Damn her.

He wouldn't see Eliana tainted like that, her soul permanently damned to Hircine. She may be morally gray, if reports of her association with the Thieves Guild and Dark Brotherhood held any weight to them, but to give her mortal soul to a daedric prince…And he certainly wouldn't hand her over on a silver platter to that beast. He lov-

Vilkas' eyes flew open, muscles seizing as he went stiff with shock and revulsion. Gods, no. No! He-he couldn't.

Even as his thoughts chased their tails, his eyes hardened with an identical fierceness to the preparation of battle. He couldn't. And more than that, he wouldn't.

As he shook out his legs from that shock, got his blood pumping again, he saw from the corner of his eye Kodlak enter the yard, heavy door slamming shut behind him, caught on a winter wind. The bright sunshine made his silver hair appear white and sharpened the scars and creases on his aged face. He tipped his face up to the sky, smiling slightly at the warmth on his cheeks before facing Vilkas again.

"A bit cold today, but beautiful nonetheless, wouldn't you say?"

Vilkas eyed him warily, having known Kodlak for too long to believe he had left the hall for the simple joys of checking on the weather, "What did you need?"

Sighing heavily, he moved closer to the younger man, looking over the dummy that was barely still recognizable, "The others are becoming a bit...concerned about you."

He raised a brow, "I can't imagine why."

Kodlak just gave him that look, the one that was more disappointment than disapproval. Vilkas hated how effective it was as he looked down at his boots, "You know why. You've been unusually tense for weeks. Months. And it's only getting worse."

"I'm fine."

"No," Kodlak said softly. "You're not. And the beast feels it too."

He could swear his heart skipped a beat, "If I could stop the beast from feeling anything, you know I would."

"I know, but sometimes we cannot control how we feel. Rather, we can distract ourselves, make our hands so busy that our minds can focus on nothing else."

Vilkas sheathed his sword carefully along his spine, speaking with a little snark, "Did you have any suggestions?"

"Yes. I would like you to take Ria hunting," Kodlak said. "The girl has been getting more and more vocal about wanting to explore more than Whiterun Hold, but no Companion should go on their own. Because she's most your charge, I am entrusting you to take her out and watch her. Step in to correct her when necessary. I dare say you're less likely to tear her apart than any of the others, and she still needs some instruction, capable as she may be."

"Hmm," Vilkas grunted, crossing his arms. "And when would you expect us to leave?"

Kodlak glanced over the walls, unable to see the lands below, but able to imagine, "For winter, the skies seem amiable enough. Perhaps today, if you can get gathered before midday."

He nodded sharply, "Alright then. When would you expect us back?"

Silence fell between them. Vilkas was no fool and knew Kodlak wasn't either. The old man always knew more than he let on, and had likely guessed as the reason for his dicey mood as of late.

"Don't come back until you've found yourself again, Vilkas, whoever you may be. There is more to you than just being a Companion, being a warrior. You won't be the best of either of those things until you can put all of those pieces together."

Suddenly irritated, he bared his teeth slightly, "You presume much."

"Aye," Kodlak smiled. "But everyone, even people seemingly as straightforward as Farkas, have pieces they bury. You've been running from yours for a long time, since you were a child."

"And bringing all of this up _now _is supposed to help?" he growled.

"You're afraid of being weak. I expect you need to discover just how strong you are without your sword."

Leaving Vilkas standing in confusion, he turned and walked back into the hall. It would still be a while before anyone else was up early enough to bother him, so he sat on one of the wooden benches and picked at a loose board on the table, lost in thoughts of a different color.

* * *

"Ria!" Vilkas barked, interrupting the conversation between her, Athis, and Torvar.

They all looked at him, though Ria was the only one who smiled, "Yes? More footwork today?"

"No."

Ria tilted her head to the side curiously, a bit pup-like as Torvar and Athis exchanged a look. He ran a hand through dirty hair, "Gather anything you think you may need for several days, at least. We leave the hall in an hour."

She grinned, jumping up from the table with zeal, but thankfully suppressed her typical piercing squeal. She nearly knocked Brill off his feet in her hurry to get past him and down the stairs.

"What prompted that, Vilk?" Torvar asked, voice not yet slurred.

He decided honesty would dispel more rumors, "Kodlak wanted me to take Ria out hunting. Said she's been getting loud about leaving."

Athis snorted, "That's one way to say it. Been down right damned irritating."

"Well, she'll be out of your way for a few days at least. I suggest you train while she's gone, or she may join Njada when she returns," he replied with a laugh before heading to the stairs himself.

Though voices came out of several of the rooms, there was not a soul in the halls as he headed to his rooms in order to pack, snatching an apple off of the long table as he passed. He took a large bite of crisp flesh, a bit of juice running into his whiskers, slightly longer than he normally kept it trimmed, close to his flesh. As he entered his rooms, he tossed the core into a bucket near one of his dressers. He reached to the top of the shelves nearest his bed, grabbing down a satchel barely used these days. He began putting items into it, stuffing it with more than he thought he would need, just in case it took longer to "find himself" than he felt entirely comfortable.

As he was wrapping some tunics in a bear fur, Aela poked her head inside. Without looking up from his task, Vilkas sighed, "Blast woman. What now?"

Aela merely raised a brow, leaning against his door frame in that way she made an art, "Ria is telling anyone who will listen about your little journey. Says it's to be training."

Vilkas grunted, not bothering to answer her in acknowledgment or denial. If she had questions, she could either ask or find Kodlak. He shoved a couple bottles of ale from his bedside table into the seemingly bottomless pack.

"Tired of waiting around for her?"

Vilkas quickly choked down the biting remarks climbing up his throat to the tip of his tongue, schooling his features smooth through great effort. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction. If it was a fight she wanted, she could find Njada. After he filled the bag, he set it near the doors, just under Aela's feet, and set about straightening up the room as best he could. Less for Tilma to do while he was away.

"I hope you find some sense while you're out there, Vilkas. You know how Kodlak feels about...inter-guild relations."

Vilkas was organizing his many books back onto their proper shelves, glancing at the titles as he replied, "Yes, but I'm not sure you should be quite so confident in your assessment."

She almost snickered. The sound caught in her mouth, like a swarm of bees, a sound she seemed unused to making, "You truly love her, don't you? Oh, you poor, damned fool."

"Save your pity, Aela," he said as he turned to grab his pack off the floor, hoisting it over his shoulder. "I don't love anyone. At least, not in the way you're implying. Now, if you're finished..."

Aela stepped back a bit, enough to allow him to press by her. Her eyes held emotions he couldn't name, ones he wasn't used to seeing on her face, but they didn't look cruel or malicious. Just sad. As he passed her by, he paused long enough to speak softly to her.

"I know very well how Kodlak feels, how the Companions feel. I was raised with that vitriol. I see the logic in it, but I wonder on some level if there are more ways to find glory and honor than with a blade or bow, than slitting a bandit's throat or tearing open the Silver Hand with the blood. _That _is what I'm searching for."

"So it has nothing to do with Eliana?"

He shrugged, causing the pack to bump the wall loudly, "I don't think it's fair to say nothing. I've felt out of place for a long time, longer than I've known her. I hear the same reports about her that you do. I thirst for a feeling of success like that, to know that my life has been more than as a blade in a guild of them."

She looked astonished, "So you're _jealous_ of her?"

He nearly snorted at the neat lie, "In a manner. Good hunting, Aela."

His feet echoed on the walls as he walked, armor a familiar metallic clanging as he walked. He was halfway down the barren hall when he heard softly behind him, "You too, Vilkas."

Ria was waiting for him in one of chairs near the doors to the lower levels. She stood at his approach, lifting a similar, if noticeably more full pack, onto her own back, "How long will we be gone?"

He shook his head, hair tickling his jawline, "As long as it takes. Kodlak didn't set a timeline."

Her braids swayed wildly, bouncing as she walked, her eagerness a tangible thing, but mercifully remained silent as they left the hall. Vilkas clapped his hand on Farkas's shoulder as he passed in farewell. Farkas nodded to him, in conversation with Skjor.

It was still early as they left Whiterun, the enormous city doors closing behind them with an unsettling finality. The sun was still casting shades of gold and red onto the slightly green grasses. The guards made little noise from their posts, but the Khajit caravan gathered outside the city called loudly to anyone who passed of their goods and wares. Vilkas nodded to Bjorlam, earning a nod back as his horse whinnied and stamped his feet.

After walking another short distance, they stopped in front of the old road sign at the divide in the path. Ria's eyes darted from one sign to another like one of them would start glowing to intuitively point the way, "Where are we heading?"

Vilkas brushed the falling snow out of his hair, annoyed with the cold already. He looked over the sign, the wood aged and full of rot. It wouldn't be long before some of those arrows were on the ground rather than the pole. He balanced the merits of each choice heavily before deciding, "The Reach. I'm aiming to get out of this damned cold, and maybe tangle with a sabre cat or two."

Nodding, she allowed him to take lead as they walked down the path to the right, so absolutely trusting of his authority. He hoped that wouldn't get her killed.

* * *

That warm sun he had so looked forward to from the cold confines of Whiterun was beginning to become bothersome as sweat dripped down into his eyes. He was certain his war paint he always put on for public outings was smeared more than usual. The air was dry and hot, despite all of the rivers cutting through the Reach landscape. Vilkas stood guard on the edge of a clearing just off the road to Karthwasten.

The scent of juniper berries and sun warmed dirt was faint on the breeze. The sun had reached peak a couple of hours before, but it hadn't cooled off any in the later hours. It had been nearly two weeks since the last decent rain in these lands. A brief famine was rare for this area, but not unheard of in the winter months. When the rest of Skyrim was being froze or rained upon, the Reach was a world unto itself. The banks of the nearest river they had passed were ever so slightly smaller, drying slowly. It was a sorry proof to how much a long dry season could devastate the small farming communities far outside the nearest large cities

The familiar sound of metal through wet flesh sang from behind him as Ria skinned the two sabre cats that had jumped upon them as they traveled. Ria had managed to kill one all on her own, but struggled to do it without letting the second kill her. If Vilkas hadn't been there, she would be the corpse. He barely watched her progress from the slightest corner of her vision, completely absorbed in guarding the surrounding area. His sword was back sheathed along his spine, but his fingers twitched in anticipation of trouble.

A small blue butterfly fluttered around the wilting mountain flowers when his sensitive ears picked up on a set of footsteps. Two, one nearly inaudible compared to the heavy footsteps of the other. He whispered to Ria, "Someone's coming. Ready your guard."

Without moving from her position by the second cat's side, she nodded, hand tightening on her iron dagger. Mostly unconcerned, he watched the top of the hill, waiting for them to crest. Within seconds, two women both clad in heavy armor came running down the road. One was dressed in Orcish armor, the other in steel plate, the former clearly leading the way.

As they got closer, but didn't slow down, Ria stood, reaching preemptively for her sword with her free hand, bloody as it was. The steps of the one in front even at a full run were quiet, though her companion couldn't boast the same. The warrior in front scarcely glanced their way as she ran past, the follower giving them a longer assessing look before continuing on, assured they weren't an immediate threat.

"Vilkas," Ria said as they ran so far along they were specks in the distance. "That woman in front. I think that was Eliana."

He ignored her, annoyance forming a hard ball in his stomach, like unrisen bread, "Finish cleaning your kill so we can leave."

Wise beyond her years, Ria complied silently, the dry grass scratching against her legs as she walked back to the cats.

She had just run past them. Hadn't stopped to chat as if they didn't exist, let alone had a common tie in a city far from here. Not that he was a talkative fellow himself, but didn't he deserve more recognition than that?

To which he had to laugh at himself. What in Oblivion was he thinking? She was a busy woman with a busy life.

But he wanted to be a part of that life. He wanted her adventures. He wanted her stories.

He wanted her.

Shaking his mind free, he felt a tap on his shoulder, "Yes?"

"All set, boss," Ria smiled. "What's next?"

He looked around at the light that was just starting to tinge with darkness, "We better set up camp for the night. Do you want first watch or second tonight?"

"First. I'll wake you if there's trouble."

They found a spot a healthy distance away from the corpses, likely to attract predators from all over the area. The bloody furs in Ria's bag made it just that much more dangerous, but what was life without a little danger?

"Make sure you do, and not just if there's trouble. We make the trek back to Whiterun tomorrow. We'll leave early, so make sure you get some sleep, alright?"

She nodded a bit sadly.

They set up camp the same as they had been for the last couple of weeks, a small fire to cook their dinner on and two rolls of fur to sleep in. Ria was learning not to chatter so much about nonsense and Vilkas was learning that conversation about a little nonsense wouldn't be the end of his sanity, even if it was his patience.

A couple of hours later, when they had finished their meal and Vilkas had hunkered down to catch a couple of hours, he asked, "Did you learn anything new out here?"

She snorted, "Yeah, I learned why the Companions never go anywhere alone."

"Good. Now you understand why we're not called something else."

"I guess."

Peace settled over them both, and the familiar fog settled over Vilkas as he began to be lulled off, "Vilkas?"

"Hmm?" he grunted.

"Did you...did you find whatever it is you were looking for?"

He glanced up, "What are you talking about?"

She shrugged, the dark nearly obscuring her, the fire just embers, "There was talk."

"Maybe you should listen to a bit less of that kind of talk."

"Perhaps," she said quietly. "But I don't think they're wrong about this one."

He didn't deign to answer her.

* * *

The journey back to Whiterun was rather uneventful compared to their trip out to the Reach. Ria was clearly put out about returning home, but Vilkas couldn't say the same. He was almost gleeful as the doors to the city opened to let them in, as the sounds of Adrianne pounding metal met his ears, as the smells of the market met his nose, making his stomach growl. It was nearly night as they climbed the stairs to Jorrvaskr, having traveled all day with nary a stop nor a break of any kind, though the leisurely pace couldn't be helped given their couple of weeks of near constant walking.

They walked in the hall to the rowdy welcome of their friends. Ria immediately ran to the table to talk up their stories to their friends, but as some looked to Vilkas, he simply shook his head with a slight smile.

Farkas held a bottle from a chair near the doors, "Want a mead?"

"Have I ever turned a mead down?" Vilkas laughed heartily, taking the bottle with a nod.

"How was the hunting?"

Vilkas took a long drink before answering, "Several wolves, couple of bears, and a handful of sabre cats. Honestly, it's a wonder how people in the Reach are able to travel anywhere. We ended up giving most of the furs to a few farmers traveling on the road heading to Solitude. Said something about joining the Imperial Legion, having lost everything due to the war. Damn shame."

"Meet anyone else along the roads?"

"There was a skooma dealer, but once he got a good look at us, he took off before ever speaking to us," Vilkas launched into that tale. Not an overly embellished or grand story, but a good laugh shared between brothers. Circumstances of late felt like a hammered wedge in the middle of them, but it was in these moments that Vilkas remembered why he and Farkas were both still here.

They talked until late in the night. When the night sky had lines of green fire running through them and the moon was high overhead, they retreated to bed, bellies full of mead and throats full of laughter.

The next morning, a pleasant mood had settled over him. Peaceful even. He dressed slowly, cleaning two weeks worth of filth carefully off of his armor and weapons before donning them once more. As he finished tying his breastplate, Athis knocked on his door, "Vilkas?"

"Huh?" he grunted.

Athis shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, "Word has come from Markarth. Eliana has returned the Breton to her home safely. Last word was she was headed back here."

His peace leached away, overtaken by a wave of anxiety, "Thank you."

Athis scampered away as quickly as he could, seeming afraid of Vilkas, to which he couldn't understand why.

_The hell you can't! a_n evil voice said from the back of his thoughts. _Every time Eliana gets brought up, you turn into a right bastard._

_ Not anymore. _he told that little voice. _She's a Companion, untainted, and on her way back. Things will be different now._

Not that he had the faintest idea as to how he could make it different, given that she clearly had no interest in him, but at least he would be calm around her now. He nodded to himself as he exited into the hall.

The best laid plans.

* * *

It was late the following day when she showed up in the hall again. There were dried bloodstains on her armor that couldn't have been more than a day old. She'd stopped somewhere between Markarth and Whiterun to have some fun.

Vilkas was in conversation with Vignar when he spotted her, taking her helmet off and shaking her head, her tied back brown hair soaked with sweat. Her follower was panting heavily, implying quite the run. Vignar bade Vilkas goodbye, which he vaguely acknowledged with a light nod.

She spotted him a moment later, and jogged lightly over to where he sat. He decided to play it off, "What brings you to me? Find some strange creature in your travels?"

"I rescued Voada."

"So I hear. You've brought honor to the Companions and yourself," he said proudly, hoping she couldn't hear it. Or if she could, she took a different meaning than the true one. He'd come to a decision the night before. No matter his feelings for her, they were fleeting. Given enough time, he was sure they would dissipate like a morning fog. He just had to maintain his sanity that long.

She seemed to wait for a moment, but he said nothing. Eventually she turned to walk away, but before she did, he would have sworn he saw her roll her eyes.

He said as she left, "All right, then."

What had gotten into her?

She walked across the hall and struck up Skjor in conversation, likely asking him for a contract since he hadn't offered. Too bad. If she wanted one, she could ask.

**Thank you for reading, and thank you all for your support as this story progresses. I'm having a lot of fun writing this story, but am having some current troubles fitting it in to my new schedule. I'm not confident that the updates will be weekend regular anymore, until I can get a new steady schedule. Thank you in advance for your understand. As always, reviews and constructive criticism are more than welcome.**


	5. Chapter 5 - The Silver Hand

Vilkas was drinking a tankard of mead when it started, relaxed and smiling at the conversation between Vignar and Farkas. Farkas wasn't truly as empty headed as he pretended to be at times, but he used it to his complete advantage when talking to Vilkas or Vignar. Vilkas was just glad it wasn't himself being frustrated this time. Vignar looked about out of patience, his fingers clicked away on the tabletop like an irritated spider.

It had been several weeks since he'd last seen Eliana. She'd found Skjor that day and he'd whispered something to her. Whatever the proposed quest had been, she was either having trouble accepting or finishing it, as he hadn't seen hair or hide of her since.

Halfway through a swallow, Vilkas heard the roar.

Along with everyone else in Whiterun.

His blood chilled like a mage had sprayed a frostbite spell down his back and he choked on the ale. His throat and eyes burned, the latter filling with tears. As he finished sputtering and reached for his sword, it only took him that short moment to connect all the pieces. The roar was distinctive of species, but not familiar and it would be highly unlikely for a werewolf to wander into Whiterun.

Damn them.

He swallowed his rising snarl on a raw throat and barked at Athis and Njada, "Protect Jorrvaskr. No one but us gets in."

"Aye," Njada said sharply, snatching an iron axe off a nearby table. Athis and Njada were taking up position at the entrance doors as Ria and Torvar silently copied and covered the back.

Farkas already had his sword out as he looked at his brother, "Could it be-"

Vilkas silenced him with a look, "Problem first. Speculate later."

Farkas nodded as Vilkas unsheathed his own sword. They and Kodlak, who had come running up the lower stairs at the call, ran out into Whiterun. It hadn't taken long, almost no time at all from when the roar had sounded, but it was enough to cause chaos. Near the base of the Shrine of Talos, illuminated by the bowls of flame lay the mauled body of that loud priest.

As they rushed down to the city proper, Vilkas fought to keep his footing on the rain slicked stairs, sliding more than running. The air near the ancient tree was filled with the smell of fresh blood and the screams of scared Nords. In the distance, the sound of paws on the ground was heading toward the front gates of the city, low whimpers audible even from this distance, at least for the blooded. He hoped the guards wouldn't be stupid enough to try and stop the beast's escape, trapping it in with them to be slaughtered like foxes trapped in their den with a bear.

"We'll head toward the market," Kodlak shouted at Vilkas, his beard and hair soaked by the downpour. "Check the body."

Farkas was already heading down the steps to the Plains District, scared residents that had been caught outside late running past him, their faces stark white in the darkness. Kodlak chased after him, his old legs carrying him faster than Vilkas would have credited. Most of the residents headed for the temple of Kynareth, likely hoping the divine would protect them from such a monster.

He nearly protested to Kodlak, as he couldn't imagine what he was looking over the body for. He was a wise enough lad to suspect Kodlak of protecting him from what was down there, what he might have to do to protect his city. Who he might have to do it to. Following the order of his Harbinger, he stalked toward the corpse, sword still unsheathed. A duo of guards were standing near the body, one of them kneeling near him but not daring to touch. He looked up as Vilkas approached, "It was a werewolf. I've never seen anything like it."

"What did you see?" he asked, tone not to be denied.

"I was patrolling the steps to Dragonsreach when I heard the roar. I'm not sure where it came from, but it was loud, so loud I thought it to be right next to me. Then I saw it come tearing from behind Jorrvaskr. It looked around for a long time, even chased itself around the Gildergreen like it was mad. Then Heimskr yelled for help, turning for the temple. Before I could draw my sword, before I could move, the monster was upon him. Tore him limb from limb. Poor man didn't even have time to scream."

The guard still standing nodded, "I saw it too. I was near the Battle-Born's and came running. I just hope they killed it before it could get anyone else."

Vilkas clenched his jaw at the revulsion in his words and bent down to examine the body. Heimskr's robes and the flesh beneath had been shredded with claws sharp as steel, leaving him barely recognizable. His heart had been consumed, a gaping hole next to the deep gouges exposing cracked bone. His left arm was nearly torn off, hanging by a scrap of skin, the severed tendons still dripping with blood. The robes were thoroughly soaked red, only small pieces still its original golden color. Coarse black fur clung in some sections sticky with gore. The guard was right. It had been quick and it had been brutal.

Using his heightened senses, he took a deep breath seemingly in sorrow and scented the area. His eyes widened when he got the answer he didn't want.

Damn them! How dare they!

Barely controlling his rage, the possessiveness filling his gut, he stood, "Have the body brought to Andurs."

He spoke with such authority the guards didn't seem to notice he was ordering them around. He looked at the clouds. The barest hint of color was coming to the night sky, only barely visible behind the clouds of a late winter rain. Dawn was coming, but it was still a long way off. Residents of the Wind and Plains Districts were out, not quite sure where to go. Mothers struggled to keep their children inside, keeping them safe from the carnage, but still wanting to see for themselves if the threat was over. Many people held weapons, weapons that would do no good against that sort of creature.

Mercifully, there were no more dead bodies on the paths to the doors, though there were several injured. A few guards had gotten swiped, but none were dead yet. Looking at the state of their injuries as he passed, he thought one or two of them may be blessed to see morning at all. Any bloody paw prints that may have marked the ground were washed away with the night's rain, now easing to just a sprinkle. Passing Carlotta's stall, he could hear Nazeem shouting to anyone who would listen that he would swear 'the thing' had lunged at him. Privately, Vilkas was disappointed she hadn't gotten a bite in.

As he approached the doors that were slightly ajar, he could see deep claw marks scratched into the paneling, as if it had tried to tear its way out when the doors wouldn't open quick enough.

Kodlak was speaking with Commander Caius who looked dumbstruck by the night's events and Farkas standing just outside the city doors talking to someone he couldn't quite see, obscured by the darkness and door. Kodlak looked over for just a moment, "Head back to Jorrvaskr and check on the rest. Make sure no one was injured. Then head to the Circle's council room. We'll be there shortly to convene."  
He nodded and turned to head back the way he'd just come when a little head poked her head out of the home next to Warmaiden's. It was the little brown haired girl who'd been spending her days on the benches in front of the Gildergreen just some weeks ago, begging for coin. Now that he'd thought about it, he hadn't seen her there in weeks.

"Lucia!" an armored woman tried to grab her as she pushed out the door. "Get back here now!"

Lucia ran directly up to Vilkas, "Sir, have you seen my momma? Is she alright?"

Despite himself, he held a hand up to the woman and knelt down to her level, "Was your momma home with you?"

"No, sir," she shook her head. "My momma came in earlier just before dark. She's away often. She spoke a bit to Lydia and then took off again."

"I'm sure she's fine," he tried to assure her.

The girl's eyes filled with tears. By Ysmir! "Lydia said there was a monster outside. My momma would have tried to protect us."

He wanted to get up and walk away from the crying girl, but instinct to protect had him putting a hand on her tiny arm, "I can keep an eye out for her, Lucia, and let you know if I find out anything, alright? What was her name?"

"I-I...I don't know," she bit her lip and looked back at the woman in the doorway.

Shaking her head, the woman came out to stand next to them, "Lucia, please, get inside. It's very late."

"But he needs to know momma's name!" she insisted, even stamping her foot a bit. "He said he's going to help make sure she's okay, but I don't know her name!"

"It's okay, Lucia!" she shushed her, pushing her lightly toward the door. "I'll talk to him and make sure he knows. You just head on in, okay?"

Clearly not happy, but tired and out of fight, she girl trudged inside and closed the door. The woman shook her head again, "I'm sorry about her. I swear, she means well but she's a right handful. A bit like her mom, to be honest, though her mom never birthed her."

Vilkas smiled despite himself, "Adoptive parents have a way of rubbing off on their children."

"Indeed. I'm Lydia, by the way. Housecarl to Eliana Fire-Sword, but currently just charged with maintaining her home here and the child living there," she shook his hand, which froze on _her _name.

"This...this is Eliana's home? Eliana is her mother?" Vilkas asked, dread growing in his stomach.

"Yes. Why?" her face grew pale. "Is..is she-"

"She's fine, as far as I know," he forced a calm expression on his face. "I just wasn't aware she had a home in the city, much less taken in a child."

Her face relaxed, "Yes, it is. She has many homes throughout Skyrim that she's earned. She tells me that she's opened her doors in each one to children living in the area that don't have anywhere else to go. Always seems to have time to stop and play a game with them whenever she's in the city too. She's not around often, busy as she is, but always has time for the children."

His head was pounding. What would she think if he told her who he suspected the beast to be? Rage began simmering again in his stomach. All that she could have thrown away!

Saying a goodbye he didn't quite comprehend, too lost in his own thoughts, he stalked back through the Plains district, past citizens that were more asleep than awake, and up through the Wind District until he got to Jorrvaskr, the only place he'd ever felt truly safe.

Until she came into his life.

He remembered only a scant second before he would have shoved open the doors to the main hall that Njada was standing near the entrance with an axe, and he wouldn't put it past her to shove the axe into his face even knowing who he was. He banged a fist against the door until Athis opened it sword first, "Lower the blade. All clear."

Immediately doing what was asked, he backed up and retreated to the table with Ria and Torvar, who were putting their weapons away as well. Only Njada kept hers drawn, "What happened, Vilkas? And where are the others?"

"Kodlak and Farkas are dealing with the city guard and taking count of the city. Skjor, Aela, and Eliana are thought to have left on a hunt before it happened, but we'll confirm when they reappear. That priest of Talos, Heimskr, is the only fatality I know of," Vilkas explained, breezing through the half-lie with ease.

Njada huffed, finally setting the axe down, "But _what _happened?"

He moved toward the back doors in silence not wanting to answer, feeling their eyes on him as he did. As he stomped across the hall, his boots were sticking oddly to the wooden floor as he realized belatedly that his boots were still sticky in places with blood, as if the mud he tracked in wasn't going to be annoying enough for Tilma. The Haggard, indeed.

He rubbed his eyes with the forefinger and thumb of his right hand. A time like this and he was worried about house cleaning?

"Vilkas?" Ria asked softly from behind him. The tone of her voice reminded her oddly of Lucia, the stark worry for someone you consider family. How much could he hide from these people, protect them, coddle them, before it was too much? More harm than good, as they say.

He straightened with a heavy sigh, "It was a werewolf attack."

The utter silence that followed his answer was such he could hear a skeever fart. Athis was the first to speak, "Truly? A...a werewolf?"

"In Whiterun? Where in the world would that get in?" Ria asked, the quiver in her voice giving the fear away that her posture hid.

Vignar stood near the bedrooms on the north side of the hall, Brill stood just slightly in front of him. Vilkas shared a long and severe look with the old man. If the rest of the people in the hall had no idea where a werewolf may come from, the old man did. Even likely had an idea of who was responsible. Still, he was sharp enough to know why that secret was a secret and didn't belong to the rest of those gathered.

After a moment, the elder man shook his head slightly and returned to the chamber behind him. Vilkas faced the rest, "Where it got in doesn't matter right now. Tomorrow, we will offer our skills and service to the guards as the conduct their investigation. It was likely a rogue incident, but the guards will have to make sure in these times. With the war, vampires, and dragons, adding werewolves to the list may push some of the cityfolk a little too far. That is our main purpose. At the end of the day, it doesn't matter who or how or why. This happened in _our _city in to _our _people. They need to know that we'll be there to protect them if this ever happens again or they may begin to lose faith in us, in what we stand for."

He let his words ring out, sinking in as the fires crackled around them. Ria nodded enthusiastically, Njada's stubborn posture had taken on a fierce edge, and even Torvar was standing resolute next to Athis. Athis shifted from foot to foot unsettled, clearly uncertain around the idea of taking on a werewolf. Honestly, Vilkas thought he was the wisest of the bunch, if not the bravest.

"Head down to the lower levels and get some rest. Tomorrow, the city of Whiterun will know they can depend on us again, but not if we all look like exhausted drunkards," He put a lightness in his tone he didn't really feel.

Torvar leaned over and whispered something in Ria's ear that made her chuckle and shove on his arm before throwing that same arm around her shoulders and walking off toward the communal bedroom. Tilma popped her gray head up as the rest were going down, ready to tend to the hall as the warriors sleep. Vilkas stomped across to the back doors and shoved them open. The air was still misty with rain, but the majority of it had stopped, leaving the air heavy with moisture. It wasn't going to get cold enough in their small area for everything to freeze over, but it wasn't going to be pleasant.

As he pressed against the door to the Underforge, he could hear voices loudly from within which stopped abruptly when the door shut behind him with a long scraping sound. Farkas was standing just inside the entrance of the short tunnel, arms crossed against his armored chest as he leaned back on the cold, stone wall. He watched Vilkas with a wariness he only rarely saw, when he thought Vilkas was going to lash out. It set his hackles rising, nostrils flaring for a potential threat.

Kodlak stood behind the great stone basin, still filled with Aela's tainted blood, beginning to congeal and grow rank. He, too, watched Vilkas with that same expression. More than Farkas that disturbed him. What had he done to become so untrustworthy.

The truth was standing in the archway to the exit of the Underforge, his arms down at his sides, palms turned up to present as little threat as possible. His creased face showed remorse, however little it was, but also pride and a particular cussed obstinance unique to him.

Skjor.

"Son of a-" No one moved as Vilkas quickly slammed Skjor against the stone wall, pinning him by the neck with his wrist and bellowed. "WHAT IN OBLIVION WERE YOU THINKING?"

"Let me down, Vilkas," Skjor rasped. He didn't move in anyway.

Vilkas' vision was taking on a red film and was blacking at the edges, tunneling his line of sight. Perfectly predatory. He snarled, unaware that his nails and teeth were lengthening and eyes turning a brilliant shade of amber, "Answer the damned question, Skjor! How in Tamriel did you think this would be a good idea? Did she even know the damned risks? Did you explain everything to her? Or did you keep those pretty details to yourself until she did what you wanted?"

Skjor's face was beginning to purple, but still the man didn't react, just watched him. Vilkas felt a hand on his shoulder, pulling him slightly, "Let him down, Vilkas. Remember yourself."

He glanced back over his shoulder and saw Kodlak looking at him with a grace he didn't deserve. The beast had nearly won again. With a growl deep in his gut, he dropped his arm and Skjor along with it, who fell to the ground and coughed twice harshly. Just to be safe, Vilkas stalked to the other side of the chamber, his back to the other men, "I still need to know. Did she know the risks?"

"Risks? She's among the best of us, Vilkas, and you know it. You think that pitiful ceremony in the yard is fitting for a warrior like her? That it would let her be the best she is?"

He couldn't stop himself from turning again, whirling around nearly right into his brother's chest, who had moved quietly to stand between him and Skjor, "So instead of letting her be a Companion like she wanted, you had to give her soul to Hircine without warning her of it?"

"Are you blind, Brother?" Skjor mocked, waving a hand flippantly. "Do you truly see her as something pure? Do you not see the things she's already had to do that mark her? Her soul was spoken for long before she gave Hircine a piece."

"Skjor-" Kodlak warned.

"I don't give a mammoth's hide if she dug it out and carved it up herself!" he seethed. "This was a Circle decision. We all should have had a vote in it. It was our right as members and you stole that from us."

"And that's what's really eating at you, isn't it?" Skjor countered. "That you couldn't step in. That there's not way to say you tried to save her."

"Skjor! Enough!" Kodlak intervened. "Regardless of how this all came to pass, what's done is done. The girl is one of us now. It's our responsibility to care for her and adjust her to this new life. Where is she?"

"Aela followed her out of the city. I'm sure the girl has passed out by now and is resting. Aela will be watching over her as she does."

"Because that worked so well for the people of this city," Vilkas barked back. "Honestly, Skjor-"

"Vilkas, enough," Kodlak sighed. "Skjor, go find Aela and Eliana before they can get into anymore trouble. After the girl wakes up, I want you all back here to answer for what you have done. If we didn't get a vote in the decision, we can still have a vote in how to handle it. A person is dead because of what you have done."

Suitably chastised, Skjor's shoulders hunched slightly, "I do apologize, Kodlak. It's been so long since another was changed, we'd forgotten how disorienting it can be. After she shifted, she panicked and ran straight out into the city."

"Likely because she hadn't been properly prepared," Kodlak responded quietly. "If she didn't know exactly what to expect, that the senses would be overpowered so, her beast instincts probably took over. She would have been no more than a cornered animal."

"Aye," Vilkas confirmed, the fight draining out of him. The three other men visibly relaxed. "The guards near Heimskr's body confirmed as much. She was chasing herself around the tree, probably unsure of what to do with herself, but wasn't seeking out to harm anyone. She didn't start any attack until Heimskr yelled for help. It likely caused the beast to rear."

Farkas grunted, "The guards manning the doors said she tried to avoid the people on the ground as she ran for the doors."

Skjor nodded, "From what we could see as we chased her, she was running in and out of them like a fox. When she got to the doors, she roared again and began tearing at them. She didn't turn around and attack like she could have. She wanted out."

Vilkas felt his chest tighten with something warm and startling. Eliana certainly wasn't perfect nor was she pure, but she didn't want to cause needless harm. He didn't doubt she would if there was coin involved, he'd heard rumors of such antics, but gratuitous slaughter was beyond her even in her distorted state of mind.

With Skjor's last words, he turned and left to go find his cohorts. When he was gone, Kodlak turned to face the brothers, "It's more imperative than ever that we find that cure. Keep working on the tasks I've given you."

"And you?" Farkas asked.

"I'm working on a special task that is almost complete," Kodlak smiled, though it was guarded. "I just need someone of special talent to carry it out. That's why it's so important that Skjor bring Eliana back soon. She has a skill set we need."

"Is that why you let a thief, an assassin, into our home?" Vilkas asked, brow furrowed.

"Not entirely. And despite what I and many others have told you of thieves and assassins, they do have a certain code of honor they follow, even if different from ours. Sometimes it's good to have some new blood in our mix here. It gets a little bland after a while," Kodlak chuckled.

Farkas snorted with him and walked out of the Underforge. Vilkas stood just a moment longer, looking over the older man. There was nothing inherently off about him, but some subtle marker that triggered a flash of intuition. "There's something you're not telling us."

"There's much I don't tell you, until the time is right. It's not that time yet. Why don't we have an early breakfast, given that our late night was so rudely interrupted?"

He knew better than to push, but a heavy weight like old bread had lodged in his middle. It was a foreboding feeling, an impending catastrophe lurking in the periphery of his vision, jumping back out of sight whenever he tried to catch it. He could only hope it kept those he loved out of its focus.

* * *

**Thank you for reading! A bit on this chapter, I never really liked how (at least in the versions I play), after you become a werewolf, you're deposited into Whiterun to cause as much mayhem as possible. From a story standpoint, I thought that was really irresponsible on Aela and Skjor's parts and it left your character in an interesting situation. As I'm sure you're aware, as the player, you have complete control of your faculties after you turn. However, as Aela mentions later in the quest, it's usually troublesome for werewolves their first time, and even later mentions how many werewolves surrendered themselves/lost themselves to the beasts. In that respect, it almost doesn't make sense for your character to have complete control of themselves. I really liked that idea, especially if you're role playing as a character like Eliana who has no problem with killing _for a purpose_ or if she has no choice, but is deeply disgusted with killing for killing's sake.**

**Regardless, thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoy what is to come.**


	6. Chapter 6 - Striking the Heart

When Aela returned from wherever they had run off to, she was two Companions short. She looked filthy and exhausted, withdrawing to the edge of the hall. Her face was carved sharp by the shadows into lines that clearly marked her as upset. Vilkas was afraid, sitting across the hall near the rack of weapons that Eliana was the cause for her distress, but that thought was in vain. Before he could get up and interject, Njada stomped over to her and demanded to know what was wrong in that no nonsense way she had. It was instantaneous, the realization that he'd been focused on the wrong person.

If it had been the girl who'd been murdered, Aela would have been hurt, but it would have come later, after her defiance and self-righteous attitude forced her to defend herself against accusations before they would have been spoken. Instead, Aela looked entirely defeated, her normally prideful spine hunched slightly, eyes unable to meet the face of anyone in the room so she closed them instead. Taking a deep breath through her nose, her voice quavered as she said slowly, "They...that is to say, we...Skjor is...gone."

A shocked quiet settled over the hall, like someone had thrown a cover over the building like a canvas over a wagon, deafening sound to the world beyond. A cold weight settled in his gut, spreading throughout his body causing his muscles to tremble with a fury he hadn't felt in a long time. Despite their disagreements, Skjor had been his friend. The world faded away as he stood and paced aimlessly across the wooden floor, his footsteps alternating between dull thuds on carpet and sharper steps on smooth stone. The speed of his canter increased with his agitation.

He had about twenty things he wanted to bark at her, including an impressive lecture to serve as a reminder of why a Shield-sibling was so essential. However, given that she'd just been given a first hand demonstration, he didn't think she really needed it. He felt a hand grab his left hand as he turned to make another pass.

Grabbing for the steel sword at his waist with his right hand, he pulled back as Farkas released his arm, "Easy, easy."

Shaking his head from the thoughtless place it had been, he pushed the sword back into its sheath, "What?"

"Kodlak wants to meet with the Circle in his quarters," he replied, eyes not betraying how he felt, if he felt anything. Good. He was learning.

Nodding once sharply, he followed as his brother walked down the stairs to the lower levels. He, and no doubt his brother could also, hear Tilma crying quietly as she cleared one of the small sitting tables of discarded books. A somber mood had befallen the usually joyful mead hall. Even though they were a warrior guild, it was a rarity for them to lose a member. When their numbers were already so low, the blow was an even harder one to handle.

As they approached the end of the hall, he could see that Aela was already there, seated in the same chair Vilkas had occupied the day they'd met Eliana. Her head was in her hands, arms trembling slightly though she wasn't yet crying, if she even would. She'd likely had already before she'd arrived. Kodlak was in his favored chair near the doors to his chambers and looked toward them as they entered, "Farkas, close the doors if you would."

As the doors shut behind them with a soft snap, Kodlak nodded to the chair at his desk for Vilkas to take. It wasn't entirely offered to be nice. Kodlak no doubt knew if Vilkas was left standing with his brother, who was leaning against the wall near the doors, it wouldn't take long for him to start his pacing again, an act that drove the old man berserk. He settled into the chair and Kodlak spoke, "Tell us what happened."

"I'm afraid there isn't much detail to the story," Aela replied, her tone more subdued than he'd ever heard it. "After Eliana escaped from Whiterun, I followed behind her. It was going to be hard for her to shift back as riled as she was, but the transformation never lasts long. Eventually, she collapsed in the snow and shifted back while she slept. The Whiterun guards were out for blood and looking everywhere for her, so I dragged her into Eastmarch, knowing they would stop at the boundary lines. I stayed with her, keeping guard as she recovered. Skjor found us a few hours later, just as day was breaking."

She paused, picking at her fingernails. Vilkas leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest impatiently. Kodlak simply waited, using the silence. Eventually she continued, "We were near Gallows Rock. Skjor and I decided it would be an...initiation of sorts for her."

"Like the havoc she caused in Whiterun?" Vilkas interjected. "Was that not enough of an initiation?"

"Vilkas," Kodlak warned. Indeed, Aela had turned to glare at him, her eyes glazed with a wet emotion she would never admit to. "Continue, Aela."

She faced him once more and breathed out, "Skjor moved on ahead to scope out the fort. Eliana woke shortly thereafter and we followed after him. There were several members of the Silver Hand outside and when we got in, they had locked the place down. Otherwise, they were fairly calm. It didn't sit right with me, but we continued through the place. Eventually we found Krev the Skinner. He-"

Aela cut off, looking down at her hands, wringing them in her lap. Kodlak leaned forward, "Go on."

"He was dead on the floor when we arrived," her eyes were shining, though her voice had steadied in her anger. "He hadn't been dead long, his body still warm to the touch. My guess is when Skjor was scouting the place, one of the sentries noticed him and tipped Krev off."

Kodlak nodded sadly, "Was he avenged?"

"Brutally," her lips thinned as she met his eyes. "I took care of Skjor's burial before I came back. I...I asked Eliana to leave me. She asked what our next target was before she left and I gave her the details Skjor and I had heard of a Silver Hand lieutenant. She likely took off to take care of it."

"You let her run off _alone?"_ Vilkas was astounded. "After Skjor just died from running off alone-"

"She's stronger than you think, Vilkas," Aela snapped back.

"I used to think the same thing about Skjor," he retaliated. "Look what happened to him."

Aela jumped to her feet, "Why can't you just accept it?"

"That's I'm not as foolhardy as you when it comes to the Silver Hand?" he still leaned back, arms tightening to restrict him from lashing out.

Aela glared, "No. That your judgment is clouded with anything concerning the girl. I gave her a mission and asked her to leave me be. If she runs into that cave with no one at her back, it would be her fault, just as it was Skjor's."

He looked away to the floor, his voice quieter as he answered, "You're right. I'm...I'm sorry."

Farkas spoke from near the door, "Do you know where she is now?"

"Last I heard, she was heading to Orotheim, that little cave the Silver Hand kicked the bandits out of."

Conversation fell awkwardly as no one knew quite what to say. As per usual, all eyes fell on Kodlak who put his hand together beneath his bearded chin, not saying anything.

Vilkas swallowed the litany of complaints like an overripe snowberry and stood to leave. Farkas opened the door, obviously intending to follow him out.

"Vilkas. Farkas."

They turned to Kodlak, who pierced them both with the infrequently used but effective Harbinger glare, "You will not intervene. If the girl comes to either one of you, you are to direct her to Aela until I say further. Do you understand?"

When they'd both replied in affirmative, he nodded toward the door for them both to leave, "Aela. Stay behind. I need to speak with you further."

Vilkas heard the door close after he'd left. He was still angry, so angry, but not at anything in particular. He knew Aela and Eliana were paying the prices for their choices, Skjor having paid the heaviest of all, but it didn't extinguish the feelings he had. His notorious fiery rage still present and needing an outlet.

"Hey, Vilk?" Farkas unsheathed his sword and grinned sadly at his brother after he twisted to see him, "It's been awhile since we fought."

"Indeed," Vilkas grinned wildly. "Are you offering?"

"Skjor was my friend too."

It was all the answer he needed, "Not here. Outside."

"Where?"

Vilkas thought as they climbed the familiar staircase, the stairs creaking violently beneath their weight. After a moment, he grinned, "Eorlund should be finish with the Skyforge for the day."

Farkas laughed, snatching a hunk of bread from a nearby table with his free hand as they exited to the yard, "And Skjor said I was the dense one. Eorlund will be furious if he finds us up there."

"Exactly."

And so they fought for hours atop the forge, looking out over the city they'd grown in, acting like the children they'd never been allowed to be. Trading insults more frequently than jabs and drinking ale like water, they fought until their feet could no longer hold them up. Darkness had fallen over them hours before, the stars blinking down on them like the souls of those they'd lost. As the rest of the world faded in those silently cherished moments, they remembered how blessed they were to have and what it felt like to not.

And Vilkas's war reignited itself. How precious the people he loved were, and if he was in a position or ever would be to love one more than the rest. The battle of wills, of whether he could let go of his responsibilities, of his obligations, in favor of a relationship that was tenuous at best. Likely the poor woman had no idea how he felt.

And Vilkas was once again his biggest fool.

For watching him from behind the hall as they moved from the forge to the yard as the rest of the city slept, was a young Nord who had just returned to speak with Aela only to be given a second assignment. No matter the fight he thought he was engaging with his own perception of their relationship, Eliana was preparing to lay siege to him. Eliana was many pieces of one grand puzzle and Vilkas, however dimly aware he was of her thieving ways, was completely unprepared for them.

For what a thief wants, a thief will get.

On that particular night, a thief decided she wanted Vilkas. And Vilkas, she would get, one way or another.

* * *

**Thank you for reading!**


	7. Chapter 7 - Blood's Honor

Blood sprayed in a hot mist from the neck of the burly Nord he was fighting, coating his face and landing in his mouth, open with a battlecry as it was. He didn't have time to glance at the body as it fell twitching to the stone floor of Jorrvaskr as he turned to deflect the blow of a sword from an even bigger Nord who smelled like he hadn't bathed since Frostfall. His boots slid on the floor, slick with blood red as garnets as he turned, twisted, and parried with his new opponent.

He could hear Ria's distinct yell from behind him, near the doors to the yard, nearly drowned by the clashing of metal on metal. He could see Athis still on his feet, but fighting nearly as badly as he was bleeding from the gaping wound in his side. The Dunmer was in desperate need of a healer as he swayed and staggered with every blow. He wasn't going to last much longer.

He heard the yard doors slam open once more, though this time with a much friendly voice. "Vilkas!" Farkas shouted.

He saw Njada in his periphery come to the aid of Athis, who almost immediately collapsed, succumbing to his injury. Too preoccupied with his own battle, he shouted over his shoulder, "Farkas, help Kodlak!"

Vilkas flicked his wrist up ever so slightly, managing to gash the cheek of the swordsman in what would become a vivid scar if he lived long enough, but offset his own balance in doing so. As he focused on shifting his weight and blocking the next slash, he heard a ferocious growl from behind him followed by a cry of, "_Bastards!_"

He heard his brother's agonized shout, felt his heart drop by a realization that hadn't hit home yet, but didn't dare turn. He thought he was gaining ground when another fighter crawled from the woodwork, a large woman with war paint enough to rival his own. Just how many of them were there?

Almost as soon as he thought the question and began to understand just how overwhelmed they were, he heard an unfamiliar bellow from behind him, "We've got it! Fall back!"

And miraculously, they did, perhaps realizing that even if their group were to win the night, many of them wouldn't live to see it. Regardless, he appreciated the reprieve, glaring at their retreat like rabbits into a burrow. Through the doors that were pushed open wildly as one after the other escaped, he watched Torvar grab one by the back of the neck as Aela stabbed his heart with her dagger, two more bodies at their feet on the stairs.

It wasn't nearly enough.

Not as Vilkas turned to check on his brother's condition and found him sitting like a child on the floor at Kodlak's side, nearly catatonic in his vigil. The old man, though bruised and bloodied, looked remarkably passive, the expression on his face too tranquil to have been in battle and lost. Njada slowly and without a word came to kneel on his other side, checking for a pulse they all knew wasn't there.

Kodlak's pale wrinkled skin was nearly all exposed to the air, their stealing of his armor, his dignity, seemingly their last offense before fleeing. Aela came to stand by his side and whispered viciously, "The _bastards."_

Among other things, but that was a concern for later. His voice sounded hollow to his ears as he asked, "How many others did we lose?"

"No others," she said quietly. "I saw Ria tending to Athis when I came in. If he doesn't get a healer soon, he could be next. Vignar and Brill were locked in their rooms and they just came out after the Silver Hand retreated. Tilma ran down to the lower levels, presumably locking herself in one of our rooms until it finished. Torvar, Farkas, Njada, and I were in the hall when it started and we covered the front. Farkas and Njada broke off to check the back of the hall when it looked like we had a handle on it. Obviously, we failed."

Didn't they all?

Unable to look at the consequences of his failure any longer, he glanced up at the back wall above the stairs. However, something about it was odd. Not like something out of place but like...like…

Like something missing.

Shor's stone! What had they done?

"They're gone," he said, his voice jarring the silence that had befallen their defeated group, all gathered around their fallen Harbinger. "The fragments. The Silver Hand stole the fragments of Wuuthrad."

At his words, their silence went from purely defeated to bitter. Bitter and furious. It wasn't enough to infiltrate the city they'd sworn to protect, to storm their sacred home, to kill one of their own and defile his body. They had to steal their most precious possession for good measure.

"Torvar. Aela. Guard the front doors. No one gets in, not even the city guards," he ordered. "Tell Brill to get a healer from the temple. Now."

Surprisingly, everyone listened without protest, perhaps craving some semblance of order in their chaos. The night had started so peacefully. Vilkas had been asleep in his chambers when he'd heard a commotion from upstairs, one that sounded more brutal that the typical drunken brawl.

Startled but skilled enough to keep his wits about him, he remembered to throw on his armor and grab whichever weapon his fingers touched first before running out the door. A greatsword, apparently. He ran down the hall, sensing Kodlak just on his heels, carrying a large warhammer over his head. Just in that short amount of time, the sound had gone from a small battle to an unrestrained war.

By the time his feet touched the wooden landing of the upper level, all of Oblivion had been unleashed inside of their home, an even amount of ruckus audible outside. Without stopping to think, he launched himself forward into the fray, barely managing to catalog friend from foe. His mind took on a familiar fog, all thoughts leeched from his mind by simple truths : Fight. Protect. Survive.

Steel met silver as weapons clashed and bodies fell. It was a terrifyingly even match. They might have been good, but the Companions were better. The Silver Hand's advantages were surprise and numbers, neither of which would last forever. The Companions had superior skill and rage.

Would it be enough? How many bodies would line the halls this night? How many would be their own?

A familiar and human roar came from behind him as Kodlak, aged and mighty as he was, proved to the enemy why he was the Harbinger. Kodlak's gray eyes met his own, "Vilkas, go! Help the others!"

He glanced to his right and saw both Ria and Athis, twenty feet apart from each other barely holding their own from the middle of their personal rings of enemies. Needing no further instruction, he'd rushed to assist them by taking some of the pressure away.

A log in the blazing fire centered in the hall fell over, jarring Vilkas back to the present with a snap. He blinked furiously, eyes burning with a passion he wouldn't admit to as he tossed questions around within his mind he would never get answers to.

What if he'd stayed behind? What if he hadn't walked away to leave Kodlak on his own? What if he had been up in the hall with his brothers and sisters, rather than having fallen asleep in his quarters while reading.

_He _had killed Kodlak just as effectively as the sword through his chest. _He _had left his Harbinger to defend himself without a Shield-brother. Some fine warrior he was, hiding away below with a volume instead of feasting with his kin. Logic tried to rationalize the situation to his distressed mind, but his self-absorbed guilt would hear none of it. He sought to focus on what he could control.

Those fragments.

They needed to get the fragments back. But how could he leave now? He certainly couldn't go alone. He'd now learned that lesson twice over, with the death of Skjor still barely healed, a vivid scar upon his heart where Kodlak's now gushed forth with red, wound still too new to truly hurt. How could he possibly take any help away from his home in order to chase after them? He wouldn't bet on them coming back to finish the job so soon, but they were more monsters than anything that lurked beneath the wolf skin. Anything was possible if they'd already attacked once.

A chill wind swept across the back of his neck as the front doors opened. He spun and opened his mouth to ask Aela's opinion when he stopped short. It wasn't Aela.

Eliana had come home at last.

The bitch.

After having been gone for weeks, avoiding Vilkas ever since the night she was turned, she shows up just moments after the battle? With someone of her reported skill on their side, they may have stood enough ground for Kodlak to still be alive. Her face was pale, making the normally faded scar from her left eye straight down her cheek stand stark. If her expression hadn't looked so shocked and small, the sudden lack of color would have made the mark look fierce as war paint. The armor she wore was black, but smaller than any ebony armor he'd ever seen and gave off a sinister aura. Her equally dark but not quite as malicious bow clung to her back and sword on her hip, the sheathed blade tapping gently against her leg as she walked.

Livid, he stomped across the room and demanded, "Where have you been?"

Her blue eyes seemed to see through him to Kodlak's body. Her voice was quiet but strong, "What happened here?"

His own voice was raw from the yelling, echos of the battle in his ears, "One of the fiercest battles I've ever seen. The Silver Hand. They finally found enough courage to attack Jorrvaskr. We fought them off, but… The old man… Kodlak… he's dead."

She finally looked at him and he wasn't at all prepared for the anger in her eyes. She could burn entire villages to the ground with that fire, hot enough to match his own. Stunned, he'd always thought her a meek kitchen mouse despite her reputation. Command began to lace her tone, her natural confidence beginning to show through, "Was anyone else hurt?"

"No, but they made off with all our fragments of Wuuthrad." he couldn't say why he lied to her about one but not the other. Knowing about Athis might upset her, as if she couldn't just look over to find him writhing in a puddle of his own blood. Maybe it's because she and Farkas had risked their lives for some of the fragments that she deserved to know.

Her fingers flinched toward the hilt of her ebony sword and he was struck with sudden inspiration, "But you and I are going to reclaim them. We will bring the battle to their chief camp. There will be none left living to tell their stories. Only songs of Jorrvaskr will be sung. We will avenge Kodlak. And they will know terror before the end."

She was quiet for a long moment, the sounds of guards and curious townspeople could be heard outside. He almost feared she would say no, denying any obligation to go on what essentially amounted to a sheer revenge massacre. However, a gelid vengeance hardened her eyes, freezing like the surface waters of the northern seas, and despite the horror surrounding them, the decimation to a place that had served as a safe haven and place of hope to both of them, a manic grin curved her pale lips upward.

And she nodded.

* * *

**Thank you for reading. Many, many apologies for not posting last week. I fear there may not be another update for some time. A close death in my family is taking up most of my time, time that I usually devote to editing and adding to fanfiction. So, I suppose this is an apology of sorts in advance. Thank you for your understanding.**


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